


Twilight

by Avacyn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avacyn/pseuds/Avacyn
Summary: "Darling," he says, serious, "I meant it when I said it would be better if we weren't friends. But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Arthur."A Twilight AU, but with a few key differences from the original. Not rated yet, will probably be explicit by the last chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was high as a kite and thought a Twilight AU would be a good idea........ please don't judge me, now that I've thought it up I can't stop writing it. Also, I was thinking that Mads Mikkelsen's Hannibal Lecter would be a great vampire surgeon who randomly adopts kids and then my hand slipped and now Will Graham, Alana Bloom, Abigail Hobbs and Margot Verger (and Morgan) are characters too. BUT: You DON'T have to know anything about Hannibal to read this. It's just Inception with some extra background Hannigram (cause I love me some Hannigram).
> 
> This follows the storyline of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight (which I was obsessed with from the ages of 12-15) with some key differences - there is NO:  
> \- Innapropriate age gap (I mean I’ve dated older guys but 80 years' difference and one one of them being a teenager is a bit fucked imo)  
> \- Abusive/predatory behaviour  
> \- Attempted rape as a plot point  
> \- Emphasis on “soulmates”/exclusive monogamous relationships being the only way to be fulfilled  
> \- Overuse of the word “chargrin”  
> \- Arthur being an incredibly mysterious and desireable Mary-Sue individual upon arriving in Forks  
> \- Crappy racist werewolf shit  
> although RE: werewolves: i'm considering instead having a TDKR crossover . I feel like I ought to pay some homage to “like cats and dogs” by C-Queen because I honestly love that fic. The drama is so, so real and the worldbuilding is legit too. 
> 
> THE CAST:  
> Arthur Graham (Bella Swan)  
> Eames Lecter (Edward Cullen)  
> Mal du Maurier (Rosalie Hale/Cullen)  
> Hannibal Lecter (Carlisle Cullen) (the dad)  
> Ariadne du Maurier (Alice Cullen)  
> Bedelia du Maurier (Esme Cullen) (the mom)  
> Dominick Lecter (Emmett Cullen)  
> William Graham (Charlie Swan) (Arthur’s dad)  
> Robert du Maurier (Jasper Hale/Cullen)  
> Alana Bloom (Renee Swan) (Arthur’s mom)  
> Margot Verger (Phil) (Arthur’s step-parent)

Arthur Graham drives to the airport with the windows rolled down. His mother is in the passenger seat, a little distracted, evidently running over everything in her mind as usual, before he tells her for the millionth time not to worry.

“Okay,” she says, as they hug farewell at the departure gate. “Send my love to Will and the dogs. And stay warm. And make sure you eat enough vegetables. I really don’t know how you’re going to cope on your father’s cooking.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom, seriously. I’ll call you tonight, ok?”

“Okay.”

“And give my love to Margot and Morgan.”

“He’s gonna miss you,” she says, for the millionth time. Arthur’s half-brother is almost 3, and Arthur is choosing (of his own free will, he’s been reminding his mother daily) to move up to Washington, to spend time with his dad and get some peace and quiet in his final year of high school.

The final boarding call is announced over the PA. Arthur kisses his mother and heads through.

 

 

 

It’s a long flight but he sleeps through most of it (he’s always been a good sleeper). The flight attendant directs him off the plane, down the stairs and across the tarmac. Naturally, it’s raining. “Welcome,” Arthur says under his breath, “to the glamorous and exciting town of Forks.” 

Will Graham, Forks police chief and Arthur’s father, greets him at UIL with a slightly awkward hug and a big smile. “Welcome home,” he says, taking Arthur’s hockey bag from the luggage check. “We’re parked just outside.”

“You brought the dogs?” Arthur asks, wheeling his suitcase.

“I brought two. The others are alright at home, they’ve got the fire on.”

Arthur has to smile. His dad gets along with dogs better than people. “Dogs are people,” he’s claimed in the past.

"Who's this?" Arthur asks as they approach the truck. There's a reverse brindle boxer in the back seat that he doesn’t recognize.

"Delilah," his dad replies. “She’s a rescue, she came home with me in April.”

“She’s beautiful,” Arthur says. “Is this a new truck?”

Will smiles. “It sure is. Well, it’s the 2002 model but it’s a lot newer than the last one.”

“Old scrapheap,” Arthur says, fondly.

“Old scrapheap has been scrapped for good. But this one is for you. I figured you’ll need one and you don’t want your ol’ dad dropping you to school in the police cruiser every morning.”

Arthur laughs. “Yeah, I really don’t think that’d help me seamlessly fit in. Thanks, Dad, wow. I was going to get one myself, you know. I saved up.”

“Think of it as a welcome home present.” Will pauses. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“I wanted to,” Arthur says. And he did want to, does want to. Last year his dad had been sick, very sick, with encephalitis, and although he claims to be fully recovered, Arthur is skeptical.

“You take on other’s problems when you don’t have to, honey,” his mother has always said to him. “But this is Dad,” has been Arthur’s rejoinder of late. “It’s just for my peace of mind.”

 

 

 

The dogs are there to greet them at the gate. Will has left the back door open; no-one really locks their doors in Forks, it’s such a small community that people think nothing of going out for hours, and everyone knows everyone. Despite this, Arthur’s hoping not to stick out too much at school on Monday.

“Hey guys,” he says, as they crowd around him (none jumping up. Arthur’s dad trains his dogs well). “Oh, hey, Muffin! Hello!!”

Muffin wags her tail. She’s Will’s oldest dog and has been around for every Christmas and holiday Arthur’s spent in Forks that he can remember.

“Who’s a good girl? Who’s my best girl, huh? How old is she now?”

“She’ll be fifteen in a few months,” WIll replies. “She’s a bit arthritic but she still swims down at the reserve, she loves being in the water.”

 

 

Arthur’s room is unchanged, as ever. Despite sleeping on the plane, after calling his mom he’s barely started unpacking (with “help” and much interested sniffing from Winston, Brandy and Loulou) before he feels the need to crash. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad,” he yells down the stairs.

“Okay, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“Shoo,” Arthur says to the dogs. “You’re not sleeping with me, you know that.”

Delilah looks up at him sadly.

“Rules are rules,” Arthur says. “Go on, off you go.”

She whines, but listens, and follows the others downstairs.

"First night in Forks," Arthur says to himself under his breath. "Well, I’m here. I’ll make the best of it."

 

 

 

 

 School the next morning is pretty much fine, although Arthur is a little perturbed when he rounds the corner of a building and interrupts a guy who is, presumably, trying to smoke a cigarette without getting told off. The guy is stupidly attractive. Arthur's not exactly the type to swoon at the feet of every hot guy he walks past, but this guy really is, like..... model hot. Not real life hot. He looks about Arthur's age; obviously another student.

"Hello," Arthur says. "Uh.... I think I'm lost. I'm looking for the school office?"

The guy frowns, like he wants to say something, or ask Arthur a question, but nothing comes out of his mouth except smoke; then he flares his nostrils and sucks the smoke up his nose. French inhale, Arthur thinks. He can do it too.

Arthur waits, but the hot guy says nothing. He just keeps smoking, and frowning.... almost staring at Arthur. 

  _Yeah, I'm new, big fucking deal_ , Arthur thinks. "I'm just.... gonna go." 

"That would be for the best," says the hot guy. He has a British accent. 

"What. The fuck," Arthur mutters under his breath, as he walks back across the campus. Dude seemed like he was spoiling for a fight or something. “Great,” Arthur thinks. Probably the only cute guy here and he looks at me weird.

 

 

No-one else frowns. Everyone is lovely - well, everyone smiles, and the lady who prints off his timetable and gives him a map of the school is positively beaming. "It's very good to have you here, Arthur," she says. "We were very worried about your father, after the illness."

Arthur smiles. "Uh, well, he's doing better now. But it's good to be here."

He especially enjoys the English class he has second period, where he meets a friendly guy called Yusuf, whose gang of friends are happy to welcome Arthur to their table at lunch. "Oh, you're the Chief's kid," one guy called Mike says. "Cool." And that's all that's said about Arthur being new, before everyone starts comparing timetables and moaning about geography teachers and generally being a lot like Arthur's friends at his old school. They're funny, and welcoming, and he feels at home.

 

 

 Lunch is fine, except - across the cafteria - the hot British guy is staring at him again. He's sitting with a bunch of other kids who are also, frankly, very beautiful. There's just no other way to put it. They're all astonishingly beautiful. The popular crowd, Arthur figures. "Who are they?" he asks Yusuf, gesturing with his forkful of salad.

“Oh, the Lecters. Yeah, they’re kind of an awkward crowd. Mostly keep to themselves.”

"They're _all_ one family?"

"Adopted, but yeah, they're all siblings. Some of them actually are related, I think."

“They’re not eating lunch.”

“Na,” Yusuf says, tucking into his tater tots. “Their parents are doctors, I think they’re on some kind of weird paleo diet or something.”

“They look like they need some vitamin D,” Arthur replies, looking over at them again. They do look similar, in a weird way that he can’t put his finger on.

Yusuf laughs. “Buddy, we all need some vitamin D in this town.”

“True,” Arthur says. The Lecter boy is still looking at him. “Who’s that one?” Arthur says. “I ran into him earlier. He keeps looking at me.”

“That’s Eames. He’s our year. Him, Dom and Mal are in some of my classes, probably some of yours too. The other ones are younger, Robert and Ariadne are juniors.”

“So they’re all adopted?”

“Yup. Dr Lecter and Dr DuMaurier - that’s his wife - adopted them all. Like the Brady bunch, kind of.”

Like some super sun-deprived silent creepy version of the Brady Bunch where Greg won’t stop fucking staring at me, but ok, Arthur thinks.

 

 

 

The guy is in his class. The hot guy who was frowning at him is in his class and the only spare desk is next to him. “I’m going home to Phoenix,” Arthur mutters to himself from the doorway of his biology class.

He braces himself, and goes to sit.

“Um,” is what he opens with. The guy - Eames - looks up at him. He has really light grey eyes. He's really cute. Fuck. “Can I sit here?”

“Sure,” says Eames, and then turns to look out the window.

What a fucking jerk. “I’m Arthur, by the way. Arthur Graham.”

“I know who you are.” Eames turns back, looks at him. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

It sounds like he’s talking through gritted teeth. What the fuck.

Whatever. Arthur sits. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he says. 

Eames ignores him for the rest of the class, which is kind of a relief, although weird, because….. he was totally staring earlier.

I guess he just wasn’t sure who I was, Arthur thinks as he drives home from school. But he said he knew who I was.

Whatever, he thinks, again.  

 

 

 

“So how was your first day?” his dad mumbles, elbows-deep in the engine of a boat. His dad loves fixing boats. “Boats, dogs, and crappy little towns,” his mom always says fondly. They split amicably when Arthur was 7. Now his mom has a big-city job and a wife and Morgan. And Will has his boats and dogs, and his job at the precinct.

“It was fine, pretty much everyone was friendly.”

‘Pretty much everyone?”

“Except some weird guy kept staring at me. Some guy Lecter?”

“Oh, the Lecters. I know them, they’re good people. A real model family. Always away hiking, doing things together. Dr DuMaurier - that’s the wife - she’s a psychiatrist . Her husband Dr Lecter is the one who treated me and referred me for the surgery.” Will smiles. “He’s a very nice man.”

“Yeah, well his kids are weirdos,” Arthur mutters.  
  
His dad turns around, frowning; he has on what Arthur thinks of as his “serious face.” “Now, Arthur. Some of those kids are from real difficult backgrounds. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has some kind of PTSD or something. Don’t let it bother you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I won’t,” he says, heading back inside. “I’m making enchiladas for dinner, I already went by the store to get everything.”

“Okay,” his dad says, attention back on the boat. “I’ll be in soon.”

 

 

 

 That night, Arthur sleeps, and dreams of rain biology tests and cigarette smoke and grey, grey eyes. 


	2. Chapter 2

Eames isn’t in school the next day, or the next. Arthur halfheartedly flirts with Yusuf’s friend Mike in Physics, but finds himself thinking of Eames - his looks, his mysteriousness. Robert Lecter is looking at him at lunch. Not staring, just looking over sometimes, and then talking with his brothers and sisters at their table. Eames isn’t at school the next day either. Arthur tries not to dwell on it.

 

On Friday Arthur walks into biology and there he is, just as heart-stoppingly stunning as Arthur remembered.

Eames looks up at him. He doesn’t look angry today. In fact, he’s smiling, and God, what a smile. Arthur feels weak at the knees. Get a grip on yourself, he thinks, smiling back hesitantly and taking Eames in. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows; he has gorgeous pale skin, and thick, muscled forearms. 

He looks…. healthier, somehow. The circles under his eyes are gone and he has a little colour in his face. Quiet, musical murmur of a voice. “Shall we start?” he asks, in that quiet musical voice, gesturing to the microscope and slides.  
”I’ve done this lab before,” Arthur says.  
”So have I,” replies Eames. “Should be easy work.”

Prophase, anaphase, prophase, interphase, interphase.

“Done,” Arthur says, ten minutes in. Eames smiles at him, eyes huge and black. _ _Black?__  “Did you get contacts?” Arthur blurts suddenly.

Eames frowns, then a look of realisation comes over his face. “Ah. No. Are my pupils big today? It’s just a birth defect. Shall I pack the slides up?”

A very quick deflection, Arthur thinks. Maybe he’s self-conscious about it? But nothing in the way Eames carries himself suggests anything other than easy confidence.  
Just another mystery, I guess, Arthur thinks to himself.

“I apologize for my rudeness on Monday,” Eames says softly, after some time, British accent lilting.

“Oh,” says Arthur. “Uh, that’s fine. Bad day?”

Eames laughs, for some reason. “You could say that. You took me by surprise, I suppose.”

“Oh,” Arthur says again, unsure what else to say. The apology is nice, though.  

“What made you move to Forks?” Eames asks.

Arthur sighs. “Well, my mom and stepmom have their hands full with my little brother, and my dad’s been sick recently, so I thought I’d come and take care of him and give Mom and Margot some space.”

“So you’ve exiled yourself here?”

Arthur snorts. “You could put it that way, sure.”

“And you’re happy in Forks?”

“Well,” Arthur says, slowly, “I’m not __un__ happy.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“You’re less happy than you let on, no?”

“Why does it matter to you?” Arthur snaps, suddenly a little irritated.

“Am I annoying you?” He sounds amused.

“Not exactly. I’m sorry.  I’m more annoyed at myself. I think I’m too easy to read. My mom calls me her open book.”

“On the contrary, Arthur, I find you very difficult to read.” Despite what he’d guessed about Arthur’s thoughts, he seems to be sincere.

The bell rings then. “I’ll see you around, Arthur,” Eames says in that gorgeous voice, and then is out of the room so quickly that Arthur would have missed it if he’d blinked.

“Oh my godddd,” Mike groans, coming over to Arthur’s table, “that was the worst, they all looked exactly the same.”

Arthur laughs. “We did okay.”

“Lecter seems friendly enough with you today,” Mike comments, sounding…. maybe a little jealous? Or is Arthur just being big-headed?

Mike skims a hand down Arthur’s arm. “I’ve got a free period, I’m going to go smoke up in my van, want to come?”

Nope, it’s not just his ego. Mike definitely wants to be more than friends.

“Um,” Arthur says, “I’m good, but thanks. I have to go to History.”

“Another time, then,” Mike says with his friendly beam. It’s cute, but it’s nothing like Eames’ smile, Arthur finds himself thinking.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Will puts snow chains on Arthur’s tyres “just in case” on Sunday. There’s a frost at the weekend and even more frost on Monday.

 

Will is already gone when Arthur gets up for school. The more hopeful dogs watch Arthur cook breakfast, making sure not to miss an opportunity for stray bacon scraps.

 

 

He’s just parked up the truck at school and is standing there checking his phone when some kind of screeching noise makes him turn his head, and he notices two things at once: Eames Lecter standing four cars down, staring at him with a look of horror on his face; and Mike’s van, wheels locked, skidding right towards Arthur’s truck - with Arthur in between them. Arthur doesn’t even have time to close his eyes before something hits him, hard, but not from the direction he’s expecting. His head cracks against the icy tarmac, and something cold and heavy is pinning him to the ground. A huge smashing noise breaks the silence.

There’s someone on top of him - a person.

The van settles. There;s screaming, from everywhere, and a low voice in his ear - “Arthur? Arthur? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur gasps. “I’m fine - my head - I’m okay though - how did you get over here?”

He looks up. Eames is staring down at him. “I was standing right next to you, Arthur. I pulled you out of the way.”

“No you weren’t - you were -” Arthur gestures to the Volvo - “you were by your car.”

“You hit your head pretty hard.”

“I’m calling an ambulance!” someone yells.  
”Get Mike out of the van!” shouts someone else.

“My head’s fine,” Arthur mutters. “I know what I saw.”

Eames’ gaze is intense. “Trust me. I was standing right next to you. Don’t fight me on this, Arthur.” He turns, and Arthur follows his gaze. The other Lecter-Du-Mauriers are standing not too far off. Ariadne looks strangely pensive, as does Robert. Dominick looks furious, for some reason, and Mal has an expression he can’t quite read. None of them look at all concerned about Eames’ safety. Weird.

“ARTHUR! Jesus Christ, are you okay?” It’s Mike, standing over them, blood on his face.

“I’m fine, are you okay?”

“Nothing broken. Van’s a write-off, your truck was too much for it. But I’m fine. Fuck, I’m so sorry, the wheels just locked and I couldn’t…”

“It’s fine,” Arthur tells him. “No harm, no foul.”

“I wouldn’t say no harm,” Eames says in a low voice, still bent protectively over Arthur. “Your head will need looking at.”

It takes six EMTs and two teachers to move the van enough to get stretchers in for both of them. When they move the van around, Arthur can see a strange dent in the side - almost person-shaped, as if somehow Eames’ body had crushed the metal frame of the van, and not the other way around. What the fuck.

 Infuriatingly, Eames declines a stretcher, and follows Arthur into the back of the ambulance.

Arthur feels genuinely chilled and confused the whole way to the hospital. Eames won’t meet his eye, instead gazing fixedly at the floor while the EMTs put a neck brace on Arthur and check him for other injuries.

“Eames -” Arthur begins, but is cut off.

“ _ _You didn’t’ see anything__ ,” Eames says. “You hit your head, you’re confused.”  
”Damn right I’m confused,” Arthur grumbles, but doesn’t push it further. Eames, for whatever reason, is immovable on the topic. They continue the ambulance ride in silence.

 

 

Eames waits with him at the hospital.

“How come you don’t have to, you know…” Arthur gestures at himself in the hospital bed, the neck brace, everything. ”You were down on the ground too.”

“It’s all about who you know,” Eames says, and winks. “Speaking of which…”

“You must be Arthur Graham,” says a man in scrubs, from the doorway.

“And you must be Doctor Lecter,” Arthur replies, taking him in. The similarities are striking - Dr Lecter is pale, tired-looking, and ridiculously beautiful, with high cheekbones and dark,luminous eyes. His features are too obviouosly different from Eames’ for them to be related, but they share enough qualities for them to seem, strangely, like family.

“Please, call me Hannibal. How are you?” Hannibal says to Eames.

“Fine, I’m alright. I’m alright,” he repeats.

“You’ve handled it admirably.”

“Not too much blood,” Eames replies.

Wtf, Arthur things to himself. Did Eames’ parents die in a car accident, or something?”

“I think Dom’s annoyed about it,” Eames adds. Annoyed about what, Arthur thinks.  Annoyed Eames saved my life? Annoyed he put himself in danger? Or annoyed for some other reason entirely?

“Hmmm,” says Dr Lecter. “I’m sure he’s simply concerned for you.”

He comes over to look at Arthur’s head. “You’ll need stitches, I’m afraid.”

Eames stands. “I’ll leave you to it. See you at home, Dad.” He looks at Arthur with those strange, lovely eyes. “I’ll see you later, Arthur.”

Will shows up halfway through the stitches, sweaty and frantic.

“I’m fine,” Arthur says, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“You gave me such a fright,” Will says softly.

“I know, I know. But I’m fine.”

Will smiles. “You’re in good hands, at least. Thank you so much, Dr Lecter.”

“Please, Will, call me Hannibal. I don’t know how often I have to ask,” Dr Lecter replies, smiling fondly at Will.

“I hear one of your boys came to the rescue.”

Dr Lecter nods. “Yes, Eames.”

“He wasn’t injured?”

“He’s fine,” Arthur says, trying not to sound bitter. “I don’t know how he got there that fast, though.” Arthur looks up at Dr Lecter, willing that marble face to betray something. “One second he was metres away, the next he was right there with me.”

Hannibal seems, strangely, amused. “All I will say,” he says, “is that my son has learned very little from me in terms of caution and restraint. But more importantly,” he continues, finishing Arthur’s stitches, “you are both safe. There.”

“Do you want to stay off school today?” Will asks.

Jesus! No. Dad, I’m fine. Besides, it’s hardly a great time for me to miss anything,” Arthur says. “If you drop me back now I can make Calculus.”

“Alright,” Will says, and embraces him. “I’m so relieved,” he mumbles into Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur hugs his dad back. “It’s okay.”

“Thanks to Eames. Thank God he was there.”

“Thank God,” Arthur echoes automatically.

Arthur shakes Dr Lecter’s hand before he leaves. His grasp is firm and friendly but his hands are ice cold. He smiles at Arthur; a genuine smile, warm. Arthur notices he has the same canines as Eames; viciously sharp. A weird coincidence, Arthur thinks.

 

 

That night Arthur dreams of Eames again. Eames is walking away from him, and Arthur tries to catch up, even runs, but he never catches him, and Eames looks back over his shoulder at Arthur inscrutably, face like a statue, grey eyes impossible to look away from.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanted to leave a comment it would honestly make my day <3 especially if it's enabling this pure crack


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